


Summer Breeze

by Potassiumer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: M/M, someone make this little bird happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potassiumer/pseuds/Potassiumer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when Mihashi sleeps, he dreams of creaking rust villa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> This is my first fanfic...ever? And my first piece of fiction writing in literal years. So it goes without saying that while I tried my best, I'm very much a beginner and would like any sort of critique you could give me, so I, like Mihashi, can get better. ᕦ(ò_ó)ᕤ Please take care of me!

Sometimes, when Mihashi sleeps, he dreams of creaking rust villa. He looks down and the red of stitches flashes between his fingers, the beloved gritty texture of leather and a little bit of dust scraping against his skin. He hefts the ball in his hand and there’s Hamada, his glove out, light shining in his hair as he grins and calls for a pitch. Mihashi feels his cheeks stretch into a grin, and he’s winding up, and the ball sails, sails through the air, slow but right into the center of Hamada’s mitt--

The alarm clock goes off, and Mihashi jumps out of sleep, the warm sweetness of summer air still in his lungs--he’s afraid to breathe out, to exhale that warmth that’s still inside him. But he has to, as the warmth turns to burning, and his exhale is so, so loud in the room, and he rolls over to slap feebly at his alarm clock, and he blinks to find tears rolling down his cheeks. He wipes them away, too used to his own pathetic weakness--weak weak weak weak slow--too used to it to take any notice, and he rolls out of bed and pulls his wrinkled practice uniform out of the pile of clothes on his floor. After he brushes his teeth Mihashi, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, mouth clean and smelling faintly of mint, pads his way down the stairs, reaching into the fridge for one of the little bentos he made himself last night for school. His hand hovers over the pair of boxes in the fridge--maybe...he should take two? Abe might say he needed to eat more, and they were practicing really hard, and maybe, if he didn’t need two, Abe could take the other one? The other boy had been eating a lot since his knee injury, and maybe he would want more food? Mihashi imagined Abe taking the box, the catcher’s tanned brown hands dark against the white of the box, and opening it up, and...what? He would tell Mihashi off for something, probably, or he would say something Mihashi didn’t understand and Mihashi wouldn’t be able to tell if he were yelling or not or mad or not, or maybe, just maybe, he would look up at him with his dark, droopy eyes, and give him one of those smiles that made his heart pound, but with something other than fear--

Mihashi grabs the other bento with that smile in mind, the summer warmth from this morning back in his lungs. It stays there as he bikes to school, and stays when he walks onto the field, and stays through his conversation with Tajima, the other boy not even noticing or caring about Mihashi’s weird speech or bad personality. Mihashi ends up between Abe and Tajima in the meditation circle, and the warmth grows to bursting as their warm strong hands encase his own. Abe glances over at him with one of those inscrutable looks he always has, and Mihashi’s heart stutters a little, but then his catcher looks away, and Mihashi breathes a little in relief. Maybe the warmth in Mihashi’s chest had escaped through his hands, which were normally so clammy. He focuses on giving warmth instead of taking it this time, and he squeezes Abe and Tajima’s hands in goodbye when Shiga-Sensei calls time, and again Abe shoots him a look, but even Mihashi can tell that he isn’t mad. The knowledge doesn’t stop Mihashi from plinking nervously before Tajima pulls him away.

Practice passes and Mihashi doesn’t feel any worse than usual, actually he feels better, because the warmth grows whenever he looks at Abe from the mound, whenever he meets those cool grey eyes behind the catcher’s mask, and he does that a lot, because he has to look at Abe’s signs, the signs that Abe gives him because his catcher is so kind and so amazing, able to make magic even with Mihashi’s no-good pitches. At one point Abe pulls his mask off and jogs up, and Mihashi dithers nervously on the mound, but Abe’s face is placid even if his voice is a little loud.

“Let’s practice the knuckle curveball, okay?”

“O-kay.” Mihashi nods, wondering why Abe didn’t just signal for one instead of coming up to the mound. He peeks nervously from under the brim of his baseball cap up into the other boy’s face. Abe’s face is inscrutable, and Mihashi ducks his head again, and looks, and this time Abe’s eyebrow is twitching a little, but the volume of his voice is a little lower than normal when he speaks, if tinged with irritation.

“If you have something to say, say it!”

Mihashi ducks his head, a cold flush spreading across his cheeks. “I-I-I--” After a long minute, he feels Abe sigh--literally feels it, as Abe is standing close enough that Mihashi can feel his breath moving his hair, and he feels Abe’s hand encircling his, pulling it up and exchanging heat.

“I’m--glad Abe…” Mihashi’s face turns up, and he almost clips Abe in the chin with the brim of his hat. “I’m glad Abe is here! Because his calls...because he catches my no-good pitches! And…” The memory of his dream this morning comes to him, and for some reason it seems important that Abe know, know about the heat he feels in his chest that he can’t put into words. He chirps, “And it’s warm! Here!” his other hand goes to his chest, and he squeezes Abe’s hand in his. “Like...at creaking rust villa!”

“Your chest is warm?” Abe’s eyebrows draw together. “Do you have heartburn…? Have you been eating well?”

Mihashi shakes his head, then nods, not sure which question to respond to first. “Not heartburn!” He chirps again, and he can tell that Abe is a little startled, but his eyebrows are knotted, and he’s trying so hard to understand Mihashi’s no-good speech just like he tries so hard to use Mihashi’s no-good pitches. “I...It’s not heartburn. I feel good!” He smiles up at Abe, and the catcher is clearly thrown for a loop, but smiles hesitantly back. “I like it when Abe-kun catches my pitches, and...and I like looking at Abe-kun--” Mihashi colors a little, and adds, because he feels like maybe that bit of the truth ought to stay behind closed doors, “--when he gives me signs...so...I’ll try my best at the knuckle curve!” Abe opens his mouth a little, then closes it. The other boy is close enough that Mihashi can smell him, the scent of grass and some soap. Mihashi breathes in, and he thinks that there’s another one of those gaps in his speech, and he opens his mouth to explain again, feeling his ears burn for some reason, but when he meets Abe’s gaze the other boy’s face is even redder than Mihashi’s, and he drops Mihashi’s hand.

Mihashi feels a moment of panic, but Abe just adjusts his cap and gruffly says: “Okay. Let’s practice the knuckle curve.” He starts to walk away, then stops and fires over his shoulder, “I’m glad you feel good.”

Mihashi glows for the rest of practice. Tajima notices, grins and gives him a thumbs-up, and Mihashi doesn’t even have to talk to him to let him know why. When practice is over and they hit the showers, Mihashi feels like when he takes his shirt off there should be light coming from his chest. There isn’t, and he’s soon distracted when his eyes pass over Abe, who looks really nice even though he’s kinda dirty and sweaty and has hat hair. Mihashi has to avert his eyes from Abe when the team shuffles into the shower, and when they emerge from the locker room Mihashi is sadder than normal to have to go to class.

He forgets about the extra bento until he pulls his own out for lunch, and he finishes extra-quickly so he can give it to Abe. He runs into his catcher and rather unceremoniously shoves the box into his hands, ruining the execution of the mental image he’s had since this morning. Mihashi plinks and shuffles as he speaks: “I thought Abe-kun--might be hungry! So I thought you might like...more food!” Mihashi hops from foot to foot as Abe opens the box and stares impassively at its contents, and Mihashi momentarily worries that the little rice balls and squids are a little too cute for him, but Abe just closes the box’s lid and...blushes more? “Thanks.” Abe manages, not looking at Mihashi, and he starts to feel a panic until the other boy adds, “We’ll share since you need to eat more.” Mihashi brightens, and follows Abe into the classroom. It wasn’t what he had pictured, but maybe better…? Abe fusses over him until lunch is over, and Mihashi returns to class a little too up in the clouds to really focus on the lesson.

The day passes in sort of a happy haze for Mihashi, and it isn’t until he’s unchaining his bike from the rack to go home that he realizes the day is basically over. Tajima walks his bike up next to him, and Mihashi is steeling himself to go home and leave the day that’s been so normal and so average but for some reason so full of warmth and light when Abe walks his own bike over. Mihashi blinks, hard.

“Let’s go over the batters for the next game tonight.” Abe says evenly, and Mihashi notices his knuckles are white on the handles of his bike, but he doesn’t know why.

Tajima is watching Mihashi’s face carefully, but Mihashi nods overenthusiastically, and blinks at Tajima, and he doesn’t even have to say anything as Tajima gives him the thumbs-up and steers his bike in the other direction. “Okay, have fun! I’ll see you tomorrow!” he directs at Mihashi, and then stares a little intensely at Abe. Abe just gives him his impassive look, and Tajima just grins at both of them before pedalling off.

Abe rides a little behind Mihashi on the way back home, but not really being able to look at his catcher doesn’t dampen Mihashi’s mood, and the breeze through his hair wakes him up even as the sun grows a little old in the sky. Mihashi doesn’t bother calling out since neither of his parents are home, and leaves his shoes in a little pile by the door, and nearly skips over to the couch, waiting and watching as Abe neatly slips his shoes off and tucks them against the wall. He plunks down on the couch expectantly as Abe fishes out his binder and walks more sedately over, sitting down next to Mihashi and flipping it open. His catcher’s hair spills over his face as he looks at the binder, and even though it’s so straight and spiky it looks soft--

Mihashi only notices that his hand has raised to Abe’s head too late, and his palm lands softly on the other boy’s hair before he can halt it’s motion. Abe blinks up at Mihashi, and Mihashi nearly has a heart attack, snatching his hand away and apologizing as fast as he can-- “S-s-sorry, I didn’t, I mean--!”

His imminent meltdown is halted mid-sentence when Abe grabs his hand and claps it back on his head, looking...well, looking a little red, but not mad. This isn’t enough to completely stop the hysterics that Mihashi was about to work himself into, and a tear slips down his cheek as he hiccups, frozen except for the frantic motion of his breath. “A-a-abe-kun?” he stutters, the other boy’s hair just as soft under his hand as he thought it would be.

“Well, if you want to touch, just touch already.” Abe says, but there’s no real volume or ire in his voice, and he pushes his head a little into Mihashi’s hand.

“Abe-kun…” Abe’s face is really pretty, Mihashi thinks as he looks into Abe’s eyes, close enough to count his eyelashes, and getting...closer? The other boy’s breath tickles Mihashi’s lips, and the warmth in Mihashi’s chest, the warmth that’s stayed there the whole day grows and curls through his bones, following the paths of his nerves and making him flush all over--

The door rattles a little and the boys jump away from each other, doing their best not to look guilty as Mihashi-mama walks through the door. Abe politely greets her, and if she notices anything’s amiss she doesn’t comment on it. Mihashi-mama stays in the kitchen to cook, always in eyesight, and neither Abe nor Mihashi dare to do anything other than go over the batters--of course, Mihashi’s normally hopeless at this, and he’s even more hopeless than normal, though Abe maybe understands? He doesn’t scold him or anything, and when he puts his shoes on to leave he’s still a little red. He shoulders his backpack and excuses himself, and Mihashi follows him out, wanting to make this golden day last a little longer. The setting sunlight hangs in beams over the yard and illuminates the hair that Mihashi had just felt under his fingers, and Abe’s droopy dark eyes shine a little.

“I had...a good day!” Abe’s eyebrows raise as Mihashi blurts his sentence out, the blonde twisting the hem of his shirt in his hand. “I had a good day because of Abe-kun, so...thank you!” He chirps up at the other boy, one of his rare smiles flashing over his face.

Abe reddens for the umpteenth time that day, and he doesn't meet Mihashi’s eyes as he replies, gruffly but softly, “I had a good day too.”

“So--tomorrow, let’s...try to do it again!” Abe’s head snaps up at the unexpected pronouncement, and he meets Mihashi’s eyes. Mihashi feels the summer breeze in his lungs again and practically vibrates with happiness, and for a moment he sees Abe’s hard dark eyes soften.

“Okay.” Abe agrees, voice still so uncharacteristically soft. He swallows, and his voice takes on more of his normal tone-- “Make sure to eat enough for dinner, and go to bed early, okay?”

Mihashi nods, blooming because Abe always looks after him, and then Abe is riding away on his bike, and not even the sight of his catcher’s back can dampen his mood as he goes in to help his mother finish dinner. After he finishes dinner and scrapes by on his homework he makes another two bentos for tomorrow, putting in little rice baseballs and arranging the seaweed like a mitt. He feels like shining when he looks at them, and again he imagines pressing one into Abe’s hands, and squirms a little as he puts them in the fridge.

**  
When Mihashi goes to bed that night, he doesn’t dream of creaking rust villa. He doesn't have to, because a different face smiles and holds up a mitt to catch his pitch, and a different place fills his dreamscape. The mound Abe and Sakaeguchi made is firm under his feet as he winds up, and even in his dream as his pitch sails firm and true into Abe’s mitt, Mihashi knows that this good day isn't going to be the last.**


End file.
